Boggart
by Hand Steroids
Summary: Professor Lupin's third year class has to face a boggart. A creature that turns into your worst fear. Harry has a hard time accepting the concept. He does not want his fear known.
1. Chapter 1

_Boggart_

_Author; Hand Steroids_

_January 16th 2010_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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_A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!_

_- William Shakespeare_

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3 November 1993

Professor Lupin had us face boggarts today. He told us that they turn into a person's worst fear. He taught my class the wand movements, but I was worried. My fear, it couldn't, I wouldn't let the class know of it. If they found the truth, surly I would be a freak amongst freaks. They would ship me off to Azkaban or St. Mungo's if I was lucky.

I know what my fear is, there is no denying it. Such as Ron and his arachnophobia, I know it without a doubt. How does one hide ones fear from a being that draws out the knowledge from your mind? Some might say that you cannot, but I know there is one way. Psychiatrists, from the muggle world, have stated that often that fears are only an allusion of the mind. It's all within the mind.

Professor Lupin took us to the teacher lounge, where Professor Snape berated and demeaned Neville and the entire class. Surprisingly, Professor Lupin took it all in stride by having Neville step up and face the boggart first. The class laughed as a copy of Professor Snape became garbed in Neville's grandmother's outfit. Professor Lupin had us stand in a line, ready to face the boggart when the time came. I moved towards the back of the line, not truly wanting to participate, but with how things turned out, I ended up with Ron and Hermione somewhere in the middle.

I could feel all the blood in my face drain, leaving my skin pale and white. My palms turned clammy as I fidgeted slightly. I glanced nervously around, desperate for an escape of any kind. I found none. The line was getting shorter. I wish that I could go some place where all expectations were null – void. Fear, why did Fate find such a curiosity in me? If I was fate, I would replace my fear with a healthy dose of respect.

No one ever said that respect didn't warrant the same as fear. Respect just was on different terms. Who am I to change the way fate works? But I cannot respect my fear. That is why it is my fear. I would wager anything that half of my class expected me to be afraid of Voldemort. But I cannot find it within me to fear the megalomaniac. Too many people fear him already that it would be a shame for me to fear him. No, I respect him. He has power, something that my fear has over myself.

I watched as a screeching banshee turn into a little ugly woman who lost her voice. Fear is only within the mind. I tried to organize my mind, but my obscure thoughts are huge. But it was a shot I needed to try. I began to clear my mind, put everything in its proper place. It all made sense now. I could hear Professor Lupin being asked a question as Ron, who was directly in front of me, turn his spider-boggart into a beast without legs that rolled over and over. Ron stepped away and I wanted to scream.

Still within the crevices of my unorganized mind, I felt the prodding abilities of the boggart. The form in front of me twisted from the hairy mass into a figure in black robes, the smell of death and rot rolling off it. But slowly to my horror it twisted and morphed into something much worse that the Dementor form it took. Slowly it twisted into a large person, larger than was healthy. I could hear someone asking if I was afraid of 'fat' people. They were partially right.

The boggart had kept some semblance to the dementor, the face of the person left hidden by a hood. My eyes widened as I took the entire form in. I froze, completely unable to control my body or even think. I shuddered, as the boggart raised its hand and brought it across my face. There were gasps of surprise as the act was committed, and I could hear the low rasping voice. "Come here little boy, time to beat the freakiness out of you."

I shivered even as I felt the blood run down my face. Professor Lupin stepped before the boggart and it shifted into some sort of silver orb. He did something and the boggart was forced back into its home. The professor, he turned to me and whispered my name. I- I don't know what possessed me, but I ran. I ran as fast and as far as I could. I could not say where my feet took me, for I was running in blind panic. I couldn't stop. They would cast me from the school and I would be a bigger freak amongst freaks.

Perhaps my uncle was right. This magic, everything was horrid and it needed to be beaten out. I could feel the tears begin to welt behind my eyes and I blink them away. I could not cry. I haven't cried since I was three. Now was not the time to start.

I dug my fingernails into my palms as I run, slowly drawing blood. It seemed hours but I found a room that felt safe. It truly felt safe. It made me feel like never before I can remember. I opened the door and quickly scrambled in. I locked the door. No one must find me. It was a plain room in a calming blue. But I took no notice. I found myself a comfortable corner. I pulled my knees up to my chest and I cried. I cried and cried and cried. I have never cried so much in my life. I despise myself for it. How could I betray myself by crying like a little kid who got everything they wanted?


	2. Chapter 2

_Boggart_

_Author: Hand Steroids_

_18 January 2010_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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_If you cannot bear the silence and the darkness, do not go there; if you dislike black night and yawning chasms, never make them your profession. If you fear the sound of water hurrying through crevices toward unknown and mysterious destinations, do not consider it. Seek out the sunshine. It is a simple prescription. Avoid the darkness._

_It is a simple prescription, but you will not follow it. You will turn immediately to the darkness. You will be drawn to it by cords of fear and of longing. You will imagine that you are tired of the sunlight; the waters that unnerve you will tug in the ancient recesses of your mind; the midnight will seem restful- you will end by going down._

_-Loren Eiseley_

_from The Night Country_

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4 November 1993

1 o'clock AM

I woke up to darkness. I can't even remember falling asleep. I can only picture the boggart, the hooded figure, the rasping voice, the hand poised and striking. I shiver and burry my face into my knees.

I know that everything I thought was ludicrous, but it was so real that it is hard to go about as if it had never happened. By now the whole school would know. Malfoy is sure to be sneering and ready to torment me.

Breathing sharply I get up and walk into the bathroom. I turn the faucet on and listen to the water rush out. But it's my reflection that causes me to start. There was an ugly, fresh, slightly scabby scratch on my face. It started near the corner of my left eye to under my nose. Blood was smeared over my face, caked and brown.

I plug the drain and watch as the sink fills up. I turn off the faucet and plunge my head into the water. A second later I pull my head up, shaking the hair out of my eyes. I scrub the blood off my face. The water in the sink slowly starts to turn a sickly shade of red.

I open the cabinet behind the mirror and pick out some disinfectant cream. It looks exactly like the tube Madame keeps in her stores in the Healer's wing. I rub some of the cream on the deep scratch. I don't even flinch at the sting.

I sigh and walk out of the bathroom after draining the contents of the sink. Running my fingers through my unruly hair, I pace to the exit. The room was so simple; homey even that it doesn't even feel like it belongs at Hogwarts. I run my hand against the wall fondly. "Keep my secrets please." I whisper.

I turn the knob and open the door, reaching in my pocket for my wand. My wand was missing. My stomach jolted, flip flopping like a trapeze artist in a circus does. I freeze and shut the door even before I see the hall.

I lean against the door, my hands searching for my wand. Then it hit me. I had it out for Defense against the Dark Arts, in the teacher's lounge. I must have dropped it when I ran. When I ran from Dudley I had always dropped what I had in my hands so that I could run faster. I must have dropped my wand.

I bite my lip, chewing on it slightly but not to the point where it bled. It would only be a little tender. Professor Lupin wouldn't have left it in the teacher's lounge. Surly he would have taken it back to his office with him?

I sigh and slump against the door, sliding down until I am sitting. I could either break into a teacher's office or I could wait until the next class that I had with him.

"Well Harry, looks like you're breaking into a teacher's office." I mutter to myself. I stand up and walk out of the room into the hall. There were no torches lit. The only light came from the quarter moon as it shifted lazily across the sky.

I can see the sleeping figures of the paintings and based on the faces, he was on the seventh floor, by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. That meant that Professor Flitwick could be watching the halls. He would have to be careful near the stairs. If the Fat Lady spotted him then she was sure to raise alarm.

The second floor seems so far away now. I slink past the statue of Lachlan the Lanky, careful not to wake the sleeping Fat Lady, and down the stairs. I completely avoid the sixth floor, having gone down the stairs that leads to the fourth floor.

I pass the bathrooms and head to the staircase that has the trick step that Neville always forgets to step over. I pull aside the tapestry and slink down the narrow case, looking behind me often to see if anyone was coming from the prefect's bathroom.

I jump the trick step and slither down the rest of the steps to where the tapestry hid the stairs. I pull the cloth back slightly to see if any teachers were patrolling.

There were no teachers. Sir Nicholas had drifted up the main stairway and around the third floor corridor but there was no one else. I darted out from the stairwell and slipped behind the statue a gargoyle that seemed to be watching me. I shiver slightly and slink past the gargoyle, to the suit of armor.

I curl around the armor, careful not to touch the metal. I test the handle of the classroom and I open it.

Professor Lupin was sitting on his desk by the window, staring at the sky. He looked so weary and beaten up. I open the door slightly and slip in, hoping that he wouldn't notice.

I find a corner, my feet barely making a sound as I fall into the darkness. Professor Lupin doesn't look around so I must have been quiet enough.

It seems like ages before the Professor did anything. He whispered, "Harry you can come out."

I freeze, caught completely unaware that he knew I was there. But instead of denying, I slide out from my dark corner and walk to stand beside his desk.

He hands me my wand. I hold the slender shaft of wood in my hands before I slip it into my pocket and begin to play with the seam of my pants.

I don't say a word. Instead the Professor does. "Harry, I don't expect you to tell me about what happened today. I don't expect you to tell anyone."

He sighs, running his hand through his graying bracken colored hair. "Everyone in class will not speak about it, which I have made sure of. You don't have to worry about what people will say about you. It takes a great deal of will power to stand up to your fear and not everyone can the first time they encounter a boggart."

He looks at me for a moment before turning back to the sky. "Many great wizards cannot face their fears. For instance, Voldemort cannot look death in the eye and say he is ready."

I stay silent as he falls quiet. Voldemort cannot even face his own fear. I swallow loudly. "Professor Lupin?"

The worn man turns and looks at me. "Yes Harry?"

"You said you knew my parents. Can you tell me about my mum?"

The professor smiled, and nodded, moving over on his desk. He motioned for me to join him. I climb onto the desk and sit Indian style.

"What would you like to know?"

I look at him. "What was she like?"

Professor Lupin leaned back slightly, "She was a brilliant person, the smartest of any witch in our year. Miss Granger reminds me of her actually. She excelled at charms and potions."

Potions huh? Well maybe that is why I can cook so well. "Really? Can you imagine what Snape would say to that?"

Professor Lupin laughed lightly. "Professor, and yes I could."


	3. Chapter 3

_Boggart_

_Author: Hand Steroids_

_January 24, 2010_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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_The Law of the Jungle: If it looks weak, prey upon it. If it turns out to be strong, bow to it: let it prey upon you and hope it won't devour you._

_-The Warlock In spite of Himself_

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4 November 1993

2 o'clock pm

It's a Hogsmeade weekend which means that Ron and Hermione are out along with most of the school. Ron tried to wake me but I can only slightly muttering, "Leave me alone" to him. Normally I would have at least gone down to see them off or attempt to convince Professor McGonagall to let me go. But I didn't get back from Professor Lupin's office until four this morning and by then I was dead tired.

I know Ron is going to be standoffish about what happened in class. But hopefully he won't say anything to me about it. I know Professor Lupin said that the class won't say anything but that doesn't guarantee anything. I'm not sure how I would react to people questioning me about it.

Hermione no doubt will bombard me with questions. She always wants to know things, even when she knows it's not reasonable to know them. This would be one of those things that she really doesn't need to know.

The boggart surprised me a little. The morph between dementor and Uncle was disturbing. Gods, do I hope that Professor Lupin won't take out that creature again.

My mother's maiden name was Lily Marie Evans. She had a sister named Petunia and she had green eyes. That was about all I knew about my mother before this morning. Everyone is telling me about how much I look like my father; the messy mop of hair, the body build, the way I act. Even Professor Snape tells me this. But Professor Lupin told me about my mother.

My mother had green eyes and auburn hair. Not like Ginny's hair or Ron's. Hers was darker, bordering brunette. She had a fierce temper and she loved to read. Professor Lupin said that her favorite book was the Lord of the Rings.

In school her best subjects were Charms and Potions. Can you just imagine, Potions? I know I could make a decent potion if Professor Snape didn't breathe down my neck every class. Really, I have been cooking since I was seven. It cannot be too much different, can it?

I've seen Lily in pictures but they are black and white. The only time I have seen her was in the Mirror of Erised. But that was before I even had a picture of her to look at.

I wish she was alive. I wish I had a family that didn't hate me in every aspect. I would love to have what Ron has, a family that unconditionally loves.

I suppose I should get started on my Transfiguration essay. Professor McGonagall wants 18 inches on Animagi. Professor McGonagall never has a concept of not assigning homework over the weekend.

Hermione would never leave me alone if I don't to my work. I put down the photo album I was looking through of my parents and pick up my quill and some parchment. I move over to the desk in the dorm room and carefully test out the tip of the quill. The tip catches on the scratch parchment that I found and splatters ink over the paper.

I fish in my bag for a new quill and flatten out the piece of parchment.

_Animagi is a distinctive branch of Transfiguration. It is the transfiguration of the human body while retaining a human mind. This advanced branch has few accomplished practitioners. In history there are only a few wizards and witches who have managed the transformation. Falco Aesalon was the first recorded person who ever managed it. The Greek transformed into a falcon, possibly reflecting cunningness and intelligence of a bird of prey. Morgan Le Fay also managed the transformation, also transforming into a bird (species unkown). There have been seven known registered Animagi since Aesalon, Le Fay, and Cliodna who all took the form of a bird. _

_It appears that due to the high intelligence required to perform the task of the Animagi transformation, the people who have managed have also been noted as professed, accomplished masters of Transfiguration._

I stop and tap my quill on the desk. My father was the best in transfiguration in his time. Professor McGonagall even said that if he put his mind to it he could very well have managed the transformation. But that would have required him to follow the rules. Professor Snape is always on about how reckless and disregarding of the rules my father was. Perhaps he managed the transformation on his own.

I scratch the desk with my quill before realizing that I just ruined it. Sighing I stand up. I didn't have anything to eat this morning or anything for lunch. No doubt lunch is over. I blow the ink and place the parchment down on my bed.

I grab my cloak and throw it over me, pulling the hood up so that I am completely covered. I know that I am going to have to face the school sometime, but I don't want that time to happen now. Currently I am perfectly fine being invisible, literately.

I discovered the kitchens about a month ago. It's down by the Hufflepuff dorms. You just have to tickle the pear and the entrance to the kitchens open. The elves are really nice. They always try to give you as much food as they can.

I walk out of the Gryffindor dorms and take the same route as I did last night to Professor Lupin's room. The stairs had some sunlight filtering in through the windows so the stairs weren't lit with candles.

On the first floor I walked pass Sir Nicolas. I could have sworn he knew I was there. I walk past the Healer's Wing and Professor McGonagall's office and down the stairs.

I turned and headed down the stairs to the Hufflepuff dorms, taking the first right and came to a dead end. I tickled the pear and the door edged open. I slipped in and pulled off the cloak.

Instantly I was offered food by the elves. They got me a wonderful pot roast sandwich.

I chew on it slowly as I walk around the castle under my cloak. I can't stay hidden for dinner. I guess I have to face the crowds sooner or later.


	4. Chapter 4

_Boggart_

_Author: Hand Steroids_

_January 31, 2010_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter_

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_If you've a story, make sure it's a whole one, with details close to hand. It's the difference between a successful lie and getting caught._

_-Tamora Pierce, Trickster's Choice_

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4 November 1993

6:30 o'clock p.m.

I cannot avoid them. I can hide under my cloak and wallow in my shame or I can show my face and answer questions sure to be asked. It is better to reveal yourself in the manner of your choosing then that of someone else's. I cannot help but deter myself from this path. But I suppose I have to go to class sometime. It isn't like they can shove me in a cupboard, now is it?

I pinch the bridge of my nose and place my useless glasses back on. I only wear the things because Aunt Petunia told me to. She threatens me with no food every time she finds me without them on. She told me that there is no prescription on the glass. It's merely a prop, something so authentic that only someone who specializes in eyeglasses could tell that they are not real.

I step out into the great hall, mingling in with the rest of the students heading for dinner. No one noticed me. I manage to find my way to the Gryffindor table and find my seat.

I stare at the reflection of the golden plate. The cut on my face was not going to go away. It would scar, leaving a reminder of my fear with it.

The seats near me start to fill up, Ron taking a seat next to me and Hermione one across from me. I can feel her wanting to ask me questions. She's not going to get the answers she truly wants. Dean, Seamus, Neville and Thomas fill in the seats surrounding us, the rest of the third years in Hermione's dorm next to them.

The Head Table fills, and I know that Professor Dumbledore is looking at me. I can feel my shoulders tense as another gaze attaches itself onto my back. I breathe in a deep breath and force myself to relax.

It seemed like forever for dinner to be served. My hands start to itch. I pick up my fork and start to twirl it around, just to keep my hands busy. I fix my gaze at my plate and leave it there until the food arrived on the platters.

I look up and pick up a drum stick and some mashed potato and carrots as the itching on my hand stops. I pour a glass of pumpkin juice and sip on it. Normally the food was wonderful, much better that the canned soup that Aunt Petunia would give me. But this evening, it tasted like sawdust in my mouth.

Hermione saw my lack of appetite and frowns. She catches my eye briefly and I shrug a shoulder, not really wanting to speak. Anyone could see her internal debate; clearly she wanted to scold him.

My hands start to itch again. I reach over for the pitcher of pumpkin juice and Hermione grabs my hand. She spreads out my hand, palm up, and runs her hand over it.

"Harry, where did you get this?" She questioned. She was talking about the crescent shaped gouges in my hands made by fingernails. I frown, faking ignorance.

"I don't know. It didn't hurt at all." She scowls and Ron stops eating.

"Harry, you really should get that looked at." I nod, mainly to appease her, but people had begun to look over our way. I fidget in my seat.

"Harry, you know if you ever want to talk about anything, Ron and I are here for you, don't you?" She still has a hold of my hand and I nod again.

"Of course Hermione, I know both of you are always there when I need you." She smiles lightly and lets my hand go. I grab the pumpkin juice, pouring myself and extra-full glass and begin to sip on it.

Then what I dreaded happened. Dean and Thomas got started talking about Defense Against the Dark Arts class, mainly the boggart.

"So, Professor Lupin seems to be the best Defense teacher we have ever had." Dean said to Thomas who replied cattily, "Yah, much better than that pansy, Lockheart."

"Did you see that spider that Ron pulled up? It was huge!" Lavender leaned in and raised an eyebrow. "I heard that Malfoy's boggart turned into a werewolf."

Ron looked over at the mention of Malfoy and laughed. "Serves him right; I bet he has never even seen a werewolf before. Me on the other hand, I have a true reason to fear spiders. Their just-" He broke off, shuddering slightly.

Seamus looked over at me. I knew it; they were going to ask me about it. I scratch my hands subconsciously. "So Harry, why is a fat boggart man your fear?

"I mean, I fear banshees because my older sister died in child birth with my niece and the Banshee came over our house that night. I can't stand anyone close to me dying, it drives me insane."

"Well, I was in London around April the year we came to Hogwarts. This huge man found me doing accidental magic in an alley and tried to strike me for it. Most muggles fear change and strange things. I think he was just afraid of what he saw."

I was painfully aware of how quiet it was around me. It seems everyone wants to know why the boy-who-lived is afraid of a fat man.

"He didn't hit me though. I guess the thought of being hit was more fearful than the man itself."

Ron had narrowed his eyes at the explanation, but Hermione blurted out, "But why the dementor's hood?"

I shift uncomfortably for a moment. "Didn't Professor Lupin say that Dementor's prey upon happy thoughts, leaving only the bad ones? Well if I was for say to fear them, then that would mean I would fear fear itself."

She pauses for a moment before nodding. "So you fear people knowing your fear?"

I didn't reply to her. I couldn't. My throat was suddenly so dry. I took a gulp of pumpkin juice, and I itch the fresh scar on my face after I put the cup down.

"Harry, promise me you will go to the healer's wing after dinner to get those checked out." I look at her slightly. "Yes, Professor." I reply.

I get up from the table and walk towards the great hall doors. I can see Ron watching me. I hope he doesn't suspect that it wasn't the truth.

I make my way up the two flights of stairs to the healer's wing and sit down on one of the beds to wait for the Madame. She was going to fuss at me about not coming to her sooner. At least no one knows the truth now.

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_A/N. Normally I wouldn't post anything here. But I think I should for this one. _

_Originally I hadn't meant for this story to carry on beyond the first chapter. I wrote the first chapter about a year ago and found it on my flash drive a while ago and decided to post it. It was a smart choice. I hope I am writing up to your expectations!_

_I just want to thank my reviewers for reviewing. Your comments are what keep me actually wanting to continue this. _

_Any comments or questions or problems, just ask._

_(All information on room location and such like where the headmaster's office is i located from the hplexicon.)_


	5. Chapter 5

_Author: Hand Steroids_

_Boggart_

_Feburary 16, 2010_

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_I have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing and the first motion all the intermis like a phantasma or a hideous dream: the Genius and the mortal instruments are then in council. And the state of man, like to a little kingdom suffers then the nature of an insurrection._

_-William Shakespeare_

_Julius Caesar_

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7 November 1993

5 o'clock pm

It's a dreary Wednesday. It has been snowing for what seems like a life time. We have about four feet of snow outside. The sad part is, is that the blizzard that brought the snow is still blowing full force, so none of the students are let out.

I talked with Professor Lupin again and he told me more about Lily. He even gave me a picture of her and one of her friends that he found in one of his old school books. My mum was so beautiful.

Ever since that night I first talked with the Professor, my mind keeps drifting back to the Mirror of Erised. Voldemort said he could bring them back. I know that cannot happen. Bringing the dead back to life is impossible, even with magic. Even a muggle knows that. But a part of me wants to believe that he could actually bring them back.

It has been the only thing I have ever wanted, a parent to take me away from Uncle Vernon. Well, magic did that of a sort. But I still have to go back there. I asked Professor Dumbledore a while ago and he said that 'love' is one's greatest weapon. I feel no love towards my relatives.

I have to go back to them earlier this time. Professor Dumbledore is making everyone go back to their homes over the winter break, even though there are usually about twenty to fifty students that stay every year. Uncle Vernon is going to go spar on me about it, especially after what happened to Aunt Marge.

Professor Dumbledore said that it was for my own safety that I go back to Private Drive for the winter. I couldn't even go to Ron's house for Christmas. If the Headmaster wasn't my Headmaster, I swear, I would be cursing like a sailor. But I was always taught by Aunt Petunia to show respect. If I didn't there was either a boxing across the ears or a soapy frying pan to the head.

What I don't look forward to is the, sure to come, lack of food. I just started to consistently feel better and now I have to go back and take another month to recover. Madame Pomfrey gives me nutrient potions every time I get back from the holidays. I don't want to have to take them again.

I have a month to come up with a plan to get away from the Dursleys. The dangerous part about it is that I think Ron suspects what my Boggart was about. He saw Uncle Vernon a time or two before, just a glimpse but it might be enough for Ron. He may not be the smartest with book work, but when it comes to puzzles and games, he is a master of the art.

I'm worried that Ron might bring Hermione into it also. If he did, well, she wouldn't be too discrete about it. She is a wonderful, caring person, but when push comes to shove, not the person with the most street smarts.

I really don't want to have to face that. It doesn't help that Trelawney keeps making predictions about my unfortunate demise by a rather large hand. If I had known what this class was like, I would have taken Ancient Runes instead. I think she just likes to make people nervous or embarrassed about the gossip she hears.

She makes us use the tea cups or crystal balls and then she surprises herself by ending up by my table. She goes further to take my tea cup, or look into my crystal ball, and predict my future. I already know that I have a dark outcome, what with Sirius Black after me and the looming threat of the return of Voldemort, she doesn't need to elaborate it.

When I talked to Professor Lupin last night he said that he would teach me the Patronus Charm. He said that it's the only thing that will work on Dementors. He showed me his. It was a silvery wolf the prowled around the room before fading away. The Professor said that it takes a lot of magic and that many full grown wizards cannot even manage a corporeal patronus.

I am going to try though. If I can't have my way with the Dursleys then I will do all that I can to protect myself.

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_Author Note: This is a short chapter. Go ahead and slap me over the hands with a ruler. Oh wait. My art teacher already did. Damn that woman. She is worse than a hatter. No matter. I have my hands full with my concentration so I will be trying hard to continue this. **I am running out of muse though**. I need opinions on what people would actually like to see. **So if you have a good idea, send it in** and maybe you will be the lucky winner of a chapter or two! _

_**Help! really.**_


	6. Chapter 6

_Boggart_

_Author; Hand Steroids_

_ April 26th 2010_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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_"'What do you fear my lady?'  
'A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them and all chance of valor has gone beyond beyond recall or desire.'" -J.R.R. Tolkin_

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December 20th, 1993

I hope to understand one day why the headmaster is sending us home. He claims that he is sending us home because of the dementors, but why would he have to send us all home? For the past two Christmases I have been at the castle, not being pushed around by people who despise me and what I am. There are only about fifty to seventy five students who stay over break, why then does he have to make us go home? Could he not put us in a certain part of the building and deal with the dementors that way?

The teachers say that the procedure to expel the dementors is dangerous to children. That could be just an excuse to remove us from the premises. Surly if it was that dangerous, they wouldn't perform it. Hermione said that the spell will kill those who are not of age yet.

But now I have to go to Private Drive, the dreadful place that is named as my childhood. I find that waiting for the train to stop is worse than actually getting in the car to go back there. The Dursleys are not going to be pleased, knowing that I have to come home for the holidays. Well, Petunia might be pleased, if just for me to do the chores around the house. I will most likely end up making Christmas dinner for them.

I tried talking to the Headmaster about it. All he would do would ask me if I wanted some lemon drops and ask me how my grades were. Professor McGonagall wouldn't even talk about it unless it was about a way to get home. The only teacher who would say anything was Professor Lupin. He told me that not only were they putting up wards against the omnipresence of the dementors but that they would be executing an extensive search for Sirius Black, because of the incident with the Fat Lady.

When the Fat Lady had been torn, thought by Sirius Black, Professor Lupin had gotten real tense and secluded, especially whenever Black was mentioned. Professor mentioned a Sirius when he told me about my parents, but only in passing. I don't even think he realized that he said it. Now it seems that something has been changed ever so slightly in his retellings.

But the Professor told me that I could owl him any time I need to, in emergencies. I hope I don't need to. He might think that I just want attention, like Snape would. But after what happened to Marge over summer, I don't think that this holiday will be as relaxing as the headmaster said it would.

The look Vernon gave me when he picked me up from the train was, to say the least, pure loathing. I have a strong feeling that I am going to get locked up the minute I get to Private Drive. We drove in complete silence; Vernon's face was a lovely shade of purple. I knew that I would be getting it when we were in the privacy of the house.

I was right. He blew up at me. He pulled me into the house and started yelling at me. He slammed me against the wall and gave me a few good punches to the stomach before carting me upstairs into my re-barred window. He took my bag and shook it onto the floor, spilling its contents. The clothes I packed and some of my ink and quills were now splayed across the floor. Vernon grabbed the better of my clothes and sneered at me before leaving. I could hear the locks clicking into place as he left.

Now I find myself doing chores once more with just as little food as I get over the summer. Vernon was specially withholding, because I blew up Marge. Petunia gives me some food, barely enough to ease my stomach, but not nearly enough to keep me going all day. The first few days with the little food diet was horrid, my stomach would not stop rumbling and Vernon would always grab me by the scruff of my neck and toss me outside and yell at me to do work.

I always bow my head and get to work but it just doesn't stop. Vernon finds excuses in everything to punish me. He used to just give me more chores but now he is giving me some slaps, he seems to enjoy pushing me around. He gets Dudley to help also.

I wish I was back in Hogwarts. I felt safer there despite the Dementors and Sirius Black then I do with the Dursleys. I could always eat when and how much I needed and I could do my school work and reading without worring about it getting taken and burned.

I wish I was home.

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A/N: this chapter is really short, but i have been so busy with my ap art concentration that i have had no time to think about my stories. I have to do 3 pieces in the next week! But i thought i owed it to people to give you a chapter before i forgot or something, and now its fresh in my mind.


	7. Chapter 7

_Boggart_

_Author; Hand Steroids_

_September 26th, 2010_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter_

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-"_Our horse is too small, our jockey too big, our trainer too old, and I'm too dumb to tell the difference!" –Seabiscuit_

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December 28th 1993

There is a fine line between peaceful living and dangerous day to day survival, and I ride it. Ever since I can remember I have had a list of rules I've had to follow. Not the normal rules a kid would have to follow, you know, clean your room or take the trash out. My rules were laid out, and I had to repeat them every morning when I wake up.

Rule number one: Never ask questions. It was also an unspoken law in the Dursley household. I never ask questions, and I have to accept anything my aunt and uncle tell me. As long as I never speak, living is healthy and semi-safe.

Rule number two: never speak the 'M' word. Speaking of anything that includes the supernatural, science fiction or fanatical proportions was a danger zone. As long as nothing related to magic was mentioned or implied, you were safe.

Rule number three: do the chores. Now this seems like a normal rule, but for me it isn't. I have to do the dusting, the sweeping, the vacuuming, the scrubbing, the laundry, the lawn management, everything. I do anything and everything that my aunt and uncle tell me to do. I used not to do anything in the kitchen because I couldn't reach and it wasn't safe to have a five year old kid near the stove, but I would help with the dishes and I would load the dish washer and put the silverware up and take out the trash. But the hardest is when I don't get a break and I am doing hard manual labor. I get so tired I don't have the energy to eat.

Rule number four: never complain. Complaining is non-existent in the Dursley household. If I complained, ever, I was hit atop the head with whatever was close to hand. Then I was shoved in my cupboard. I learned to keep my opinion to myself. If I complained, uncle Vernon would turn red and yell that Aunt Petunia and he were providing him with house and food and that I should be grateful for everything that they have done for me.

Those were the basic rules. There are others, built up over the years, but those four were the most distinguished, and highly stressed. If I followed those rules, life was alright. But unfortunately, life isn't fair. Take for instance, the fact that I blew up Marge. Now I ran away before I could get punished and Vernon had it out for me. When I was ushered into the house, I was immediately smacked around and shoved into my room, the bars reattached and reinforced, the little cat flap still flapping with the motion of the air vents.

Because I didn't follow the rules, easy living wasn't allowed. I was given only three slices of bread and cheese a meal, and a gallon of water. I was let out of my room four times a day to go to the bathroom, and I showered twice a week. The bathing wasn't horrid, I wasn't doing strenuous activities to raise a stench, but the lack of food was hard. I had gotten used to eating healthy at Hogwarts, but with practice and the amount of school work loaded onto us, I forgot to downsize my portions before I left. Now my stomach grumbled and it would drive Vernon insane, causing him to beat me.

Vernon was smart about my beatings. He never hit on my face or arms. Bruises on arms can easily be shoved off as horse play, but bruising on the face and consistent bruising on the arms would lead to unwanted questioning. It was always on the torso. But that wasn't all Vernon would do. Once he got so mad that I burnt the bacon that he pulled me to the stove and yanked off my shirt and pushed me on the burner. The pain was unimaginable, and the blistering was venomous. That was the only time Aunt Petunia gave me something to put on my injuries. She said she didn't want me bleeding all over the house. But the only thing that comforted me was that he was never forward with me. Vernon would never want to dirty himself with my freakishness.

I can't do my assigned work. Vernon locked the little I did bring into the cupboard. I left most of my stuff at the school, because I'm worried that he would burn everything, or I wouldn't get them back when I leave for Hogwarts. I am going to be in trouble with the professors, but I would have been able to get it done if students were allowed in Hogwarts for the winter. I also let Hedwig out before I left for the Dursley's house. I knew she would have been under lock and key if she had came with me. Instead she roams the trees surrounding Surrey, coming in the middle of the night if I need to send a letter or something.

I just couldn't wait until school restarts.

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A/N: hmmm... I am not happy with this. Actually, the problem is that I don't know what to do with this story anymore. Well, if you have an idea send me a message and i might just work it into the story.

YAY!


	8. Chapter 8

_Boggart_

_Author; Hand Steroids_

_November 4, 2010_

_Disclaimer: I do not own harry potter._

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_Cry baby cry, make your mama sigh. –Firefly (Serenity)_

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January 2

Dinner was bad. I had to take the turkey over to the table and my wrists just gave out. Uncle Vernon was so mad when the turkey dropped to the floor (that was clean enough to eat off of), I just froze up. The next thing I know was scalding hot pain before I was thrust outside in the snow. Vernon tossed my bag with my clothes and textbooks at me, which landed on the square of my back.

"Leave you freak and don't come back! Tell anyone about anything, boy, you best had hoped your little magic tricks can hide you boy because I will personally come after you and end your life! I had best not see your face around here again." Vernon snarled, before slamming the door shut and turning off the porch light.

I was shocked, or rather in shock. I was in pain, cold and homeless and all within the span of a few minutes. My life was once again forever changed and this time it hit me full force. I found the strength to pull myself to my feet and I grabbed my bag, pulling out the winter jacket I had stuffed inside. It did little to warm me up, but it provided a security that I had never needed to such an extent.

I pulled the straps of the bag over my shoulders and scooped up some snow and placed it against my face. The snow made the pain worse a first, but after a few moments the snow began to numb the pain. I shivered again and I pulled my jacket tighter around my body. I looked back towards the house I had just been thrown out of and felt an anger boiling inside of me.

I stepped lightly across the snow, my feet only making slight indents in the snow. When I was little and I had to do chores outside in the winter, I always noticed that I never left tracks like everyone else. When I got to Hogwarts and I had so much free time of winter break, I practiced to the point that I could walk around the entire school and no one would ever be able to tell I had been there. I knew that fresh snow fall was good for hiding tracks, but fallen snow was horrendously hard to make a clean escape, and seeing as how Vernon was preparing for the death blow if he sees me again, I made sure that my footprints were almost nonexistent to a normal human eye.

The roads around Surry weren't used. There were no tire tracks, no foot prints, nothing. It was too risky to try calling the Knight Bus, so I kept walking. I thankfully there wasn't any more snow falling, or a breeze to make the wind chill stronger.

I needed food, warmth and clothes. I could always go to a homeless shelter, but they would ask too many questions that I couldn't afford to give. I could go to Ron's, but they Ron said they put extra protection on their house to make it harder for people to find it. Owls could find it just fine, but for some reason it deterred humans off track. He could go to Hermione's house, but he couldn't remember if they had left the country or not. Besides he didn't know where she lived.

I had some pocket money. If I went to Gringotts, I could get money from my trust vault to get a room at a hotel or the Leaky Cauldron until school starts again. But then there poses the problem of people recognizing me.

I squint as the wind starts to pick up. I run my hands up and down my arms trying to create warmth. I look around at the surrounding houses. The roads hadn't been used lately, but seeing as how snow was falling and it was in the middle of the night, I decided that it would be safe to call the Knight Bus. The falling snow would cover the tracks, and seeing as how the street lights were faulty with the winter storm.

I lift my wand towards the road to call the bus, which appeared a few moments later. Stan Shunpike was standing in the entrance to the bus as the doors opened. He started his spew on the bus, but for the most part I just ignored him and paid my fees and told him to go to the Leaky Cauldron. I didn't want him asking questions, or recognize me as 'Neville'.

I laid down on one of the beds, propping my bag underneath my head. I closed my eyes, falling into a cat nap sleep, semi aware of my surroundings. Sometime during the ride, a cat jumped up and curled into a ball on my chest. I didn't even try to push the poor thing off. It was shivering like a leaf in the wind. I ended up pulling a blanket of the cat and myself.

We reached the Leaky Cauldron in an hour's time, and when I got off the bus, the cat hopped onto my shoulders and lay around my neck. It was nice to have a companion, one that flew under the radar in a normal situation.

I swung my pack over my shoulder and pushed my way into the pub. It was surprisingly active for being near three in the morning. All the better, the more people means the less noticeable I would appear, although the fact that I was a thirteen year old with black hair and green eyes and a scar didn't help my cause.

I walked up to the counter and waved Tom, the owner down. Tom was a kind old man who had more teeth than hair. But he could run a decent pub and knew how to make a meal. "Hey kid, wach'ya need?"

"Can I get a room for the night?" Tom looked down at me. "Sure, let me just git your key." I waited as Tom when and retrieved the key, and pointed me in the right direction. I handed him some money for the room and some extra for a meal to be sent up.

I walked up the stairs. I was on floor three; room thirteen. I set my bag on the floor near the dresser and stalked into the bathroom. The mirror gasped when it saw me. "Oh darling you look terrible!" I ignore the mirror's voice and stare at my face. I had burns running around the right side of my face; almost like a Celtic knot design. It burned right over my scar, hiding it. I no longer looked like myself. I had tossed the glasses at the first moment I could as I was to recognizable with them on. Despite the burn on my face and the deep circles under my eyes, I didn't look to awfully bad.

I turned the shower on and hopped in once it was steaming. The burn on my face stung, but by the time I was finished it was such a relief, that the pain was completely durable. I walked out into the room and found that my food had been delivered and the cat that had made me a bed on the Knight Bus was stretched out on my bed. I don't even recall the cat leaving from my shoulders. I walked over to the dresser and pulled out some clean clothes, before eating the meal that Tom sent up.

After I ate I pulled back the covers of the bed and crawled in, the cat curling up next to me before I drifted off to sleep.

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A/N: Well... I am actually pleased with this chapter. I origionally wanted to go into the next day, but I decided against it. Let me know what you think.


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